We're Only Kids
by BagelsandBroadway
Summary: When tension between the socs and the greasers starts rising even higher, Tulsa, Oklahoma becomes a battlefield. This time though, Julie Holden won't be the one on the sidelines. Co-written by Emolichic1.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Alright, new story! So this one is a bit different from some of my other stories. The amazing ****Emolichic1 is my partner but really deserves most of the credit since she came up with the whole idea of the story. So after you read this, go check out some of her stuff! **

**Disclaimer: I (obviously) do not own S. E. Hinton's, **_**The Outsiders. **_

**XxXxXxX**

"What's the point Cherry, can't we just head home?"

I almost wince as Cherry turns around to glare at me, her bright green eyes almost as fiery as her red hair. We take our seats in the front row, me seated between Cherry and Marcia, my arms crossed angrily over my chest.

"I came here to see a movie and I'm gunna see a movie" Cherry insists stubbornly and I sigh. Ever since I met her and Marcia Harrison, she's always been the one of us to stand her ground, claiming she's the only one with morals. I think she's just got a hard head but I would never tell her that. Take tonight for example, we were supposed to be here, watching a movie with our boyfriends in a car instead of stiff chairs near the back of the drive-in. We don't usually hang out around places like The Double, it's too far East for my liking and personally there's a lot more less dangerous places over on the West side or near the middle class joints. And truly, if I'm being completely honest, I'm pretty scared of the East side and all the hoods and greasers.

I heard moving behind us and a couple hushed whispers but I refused to turn around, mostly because I was half scared of what was back there and mostly because I knew it was those three greaser kids we saw sneaking over the back gate when we drove in with Bob and Randy.

"Are you a _real _redhead?"

I notice Cherry giggle next to me, one of the greasers behind us is hanging over her chair, his breath tainted with booze. My mind wanders back to something Cherry yelled at Bob before shooing him and Randy away; "_I don't want to sit around and watch you guys get drunk." _I was glad my boyfriend, Holden, wasn't with them, sure, he drinks sometimes but at least he wasn't driving. He was supposed to be here with us but got stuck watching his kid sister, June, who's a few years younger than Cherry, Marcia and I. We all buddy around sometimes when there's nothing else to do.

"How can I find out if this is the same red hair that you've got on your eyebrows?" he asks, I catch a glimpse of him and look away almost immediately. Platinum blonde hair that's so light it's almost white, a long scar dominates his left cheek and I can only wonder where he got it from. He's got blue eyes almost as bright as ice and twice as cold. Anyone who's lived in Tulsa knows that without a second look that's Dallas Winston. Just our luck. I feel sick when I really listen to all the dirty stuff he's saying to Cherry and I can only wonder what my mother would think if she saw what was going on.

"Cut it out." Marcia snaps at Dallas and he stops to glare at her before turning back to Cherry, he runs a hand through her long red hair and at that point I want to be anywhere but there. One look at the two greasers sitting next to him and I can tell they're thinking the same thing, I'm surprised they haven't joined in with their buddy yet. The tan one with dark hair gets up and leaves and I start to wonder if I should follow him.

"C'mon baby, just-" I glance down at my shoes, pretending to be fascinated by a loose thread on my skirt.

"Get your feet off my chair and shut your trap!" Cherry yells earning a few nasty looks from some junior high kids in the back row.

"Who's gonna make me, huh? Your boyfriends?" I can feel the anger coming off Cherry in waves now. I turn around once more to face the scared looking kid behind us and Dallas Winston smirking at Cherry like he's won a game or something.

"Leave us alone." I manage to squeak out pathetically. I can hear my voice quavering and my hands shake with anger and fear, I don't want any trouble with greasers tonight, hell, all I wanted to do was go home. "L-leave us alone or we'll call the cops." I say, averting my eyes from both Cherry and Dallas.

"Oh my my, you've got me scared to death baby." He drawls in an irritating accent, I can hear him kicking his feet up on Cherry's seat again and Cherry groans. "What am I gonna do Pony, this girl's making me shake." He asks the boy next to him sarcastically.

"Can't you just leave us alone? Be nice and leave us alone?" Cherry snaps, her voice rising.

"I'm never nice. Can I interest you in a coca-cola or a seven up?"

"Get lost hood."

Dallas doesn't miss a beat. "I'm sorry; I didn't realize you had this problem with, yelling in my face." Marcia stifles a laugh next to me as Dallas stands up and leaves, muttering something under his breath. Cherry turns back to stare at the scrawny greaser, Pony or something, his arms shaking in his tight muscle shirt. He looks too young to be bad like Dallas, but you never know with those hoody types.

"You gonna start in on us now too?" Cherry asks, raising an eyebrow. The boy shakes his head, his green eyes wide. His friend comes back carrying a coke and takes a seat next to him; he notices Cherry staring at them and immediately ducks his head down shyly.

"You don't look the type, what's your name?" She asks.

"Ponyboy Curtis." He replies his voice so quiet it's barely audible. I almost laugh, but choke it down immediately. I know him, Curtis. His oldest brother, Darrel used to pal around with my older brother Paul. They played football in school together, they were real close too. Darrel was a year older than him, so he graduated first, got a full scholarship to college and everything. He sure as hell couldn't go though, greasers ain't got the kind of money for college. Paul's going to college next fall after graduation, and no doubt he's going to go to that fancy football school Darrel got accepted into. I figure Darrel could still go to college, he's got a well-paying job and everything, roofing houses, I'm pretty sure I saw him doing one of the houses being built next to ours a few weeks ago. Countless times Paul had told me why he couldn't go and countless times I hadn't cared enough to remember. When would I ever even see Darrel Curtis again? He only remembered me as Paul Lindell's kid sister with a big overbite and dorky purple framed glasses. Luckily, I've changed some since then.

"That's an original and lovely name." Cherry says sweetly, nudging me and Marcia in the ribs sharply.

"Um yeah, sure is." I say, Marcia nodding along with me. We both shoot Cherry a glare when the greaser isn't looking.

"My dad was an original person." He continued. "I've got a brother named Sodapop, it even says so on his birth certificate." I steal a glance at Marcia and notice her cheeks as red as a fire truck. It's no questions that every girl in town, single or not, soc, middle classer, or greaser, has a secret crush on Sodapop Curtis. He's got movie star good looks that could pay his way through life if he wanted them to. Instead, he's stuck in a town like Tulsa hanging around with boys like Dallas Winston and working at a gas station.

"My name's Sherri, but I'm called Cherry because of my hair. Cherry Valance."

"Julie, Julie Lindell. And that's Marcia." I introduced after Cherry, I try to focus on the movie after that because Cherry's chatting up a storm with that Pony kid. Marcia tried to add something to the conversation every once in the while but I could tell that she didn't care much either.

I started to relax, the two greasers weren't that bad, I'd have to ask Paul when I got home that evening if he'd ever heard of a Ponyboy Curtis.

"This might cool you off. I groan again as I see Dallas Winston come striding back, three cokes in his arms, handing one to each of us and taking a seat next to Cherry. She only paused for a minute before shooting him a look so cold it could kill and tossing the whole coke in his face. My hand immediately flew to my mouth in surprise, Marcia giggling like crazy next to me.

"That might cool you off, greaser. After you wash your mouth and learn to talk and act decent, I might cool off too." I cleared my throat abruptly, trying hard not to laugh as Dallas wiped the coke off his face with his sleeve, his blond bangs still dripping with soda. His sly smirk grew wider and I shivered with fear.

"Fiery, huh? Well, that's the way I like 'em." He reached an arm over and draped it on the back of Cherry's chair, trying to touch her hair again.

"Get off me!" Cherry hissed, scooting away from Dallas.

"Leave her alone, Dal." A coarse voice came from behind us, it was the other greaser, the tan, small one. Her dark ebony eyes were wide with fear and he was shaking almost as much as I was.

"What did you say? What did you say to me?"

"C'mon you heard me, leave her alone." I stared hard at the kid, instantly feeling bad for what Dallas was about to do him. I closed my eyes and looked away, not wanting to see.

"Wise ass." Dallas muttered under his breath, standing up from his seat next to Cherry. He kicked the chair over before leaving, a few shouts from the kids in cars in front of us telling him to shut up.

Cherry sighed in relief next to me. "Thanks, he had me scared to death."

"You sure didn't show it. Nobody talks to Dally like that." The kid said admiringly and when Cherry blushed brightly I shot her one of my famous looks, mouthing the word "Bob" at her. Of course, she ignored me, smiling sweetly at him.

"From what I saw, you do."

"Ya'll sit up here with us. You can protect us." Marcia piped up, grinning happily. I turned to her, mouth gaping.

"We have boyfriends! Am I the only one who remembers this?" I hiss at both of them as Pony and his friend hop over their seats and join us, Pony next to Cherry and Johnny next to Marcia.

"How old are ya'll?" Marcia asked, both of my friends ignoring me as I slumped back into my seat, even more pissed off than before. It seemed they had forgotten where we were and who they had just invited to sit next to us. As you can probably tell by now, I'm not the biggest fan of greasers. Hell, I was terrified enough that Dally was flirting with Cherry and giving us cokes, I still hadn't touched mine. Marcia on the other hand was sipping at hers happily.

"Fourteen," The Curtis kid replied.

"Sixteen."

"That's funny," Marcia said, "I thought you were both…"

"Sixteen." Cherry finished for her. I rolled my eyes irritably, not even looking at the greasers next to my friends.

"How come ya'll ain't scared of us like you was Dally?" The tan kid grinned, I almost snorted. I was sure thinking of some reasons right there and then but I kept my mouth shut because I knew Cherry would get all pissy if I actually voiced my opinion.

Cherry sighed, glancing over her shoulder as if someone were listening in on our conversation. "You two are too sweet to scare anyone. First of all, you didn't join in Dallas's dirty talk, and you made him leave us alone. And when we asked you to sit up here with us, you didn't act like it was an invitation to make out for the night. Besides that, I've heard about Dallas Winston, and he looked as hard as nails and twice as tough. And you two don't look mean."

"Sure," Pony remarked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "We're young and innocent."

"No," Cherry started, saying out loud what I was thinking. "not innocent. You've seen too much to be innocent. Just not…dirty."

"Dally's okay," replied the tan kid, who I later figured out whose name was Johnny. "He's tough but he's a cool old guy."

"He'd leave you alone if he knew you."

"Sure." I snorted, rolling my eyes. I shot Marcia a look and she cleared her throat.

"Yeah, I'm glad he doesn't know us." She added.

Cherry muttered something we couldn't make out but I somehow knew that she was sticking up for that hood. I swear, one day, that girl is going to get herself in a heap of trouble with those greasers.

"So why are ya'll here without a car?" Johnny asked, leaning back in his chair. He looked to Cherry for an explanation since Marcia and I stayed silent, we were both still mad at Cherry for dragging us here in the first place.

"Our boyfriends were getting drunk and we walked out on them." Cherry elaborated with a shrug. "It's not my idea of a good time to sit in a drive-in and watch people get drunk."

We all shut up after that, something I appreciated, I was feeling more and more guilty every minute I was there with those greasers. The movie was pretty good, a bunch of girls in bikinis and cute guys in board shorts, I tried my hardest to focus even though there wasn't much to focus on. Just some songs and surfing shots, I'm not a real big fan of the movies; I like just listening to records alone in my room better. My daddy says that's another reason why I don't get good marks at school. I'm okay at everything but English and Math, but I've always failed those classes so it's nothing new. Daddy's always comparing me to Paul too, "Paul gets such good grades." "Paul's a football star." "Paul's not failing English, why are you?" I guess I could try a little harder, but I'm the best procrastinator I know. I can lie pretty good too, which I don't know where I got that from since the rest of my family are terrible liars. I guess it's because I hang out with Cherry so much and she can lie to anyone without batting an eye.

It was a few minutes later when I heard the quiet hiss of a voice behind us and almost jumped out of my skin.

"Alright greasers, you've had it!" Pony and Johnny looked like they'd seen a guest and Cherry was shaking. An obnoxious laugh followed and I immediately settled down, for about two seconds before I glanced behind me and realized it was another greaser.

"Glory Two-bit, scare us to death!" exclaimed Ponyboy. I had had enough; I got up abruptly, startling everyone around us.

"I-I'm calling my mother to take me home. I'll see you guys on Monday." My sudden flash of anger and confidence was gone as I stalked off, realizing I was still trembling. Yes, I knew it was stupid but I was afraid of Cherry sometimes. I never spoke up much in our little group, even though she was two years younger than me I could talk to June Carter, Holden's sister. She really did understand me sometimes and it was like having my own little sister since I went over to Holden's a lot. As I walked out of the drive-in and into the cold, brisk air and tried to fish a dime out of my purse, I didn't realize that I should have actually called my mother rather than Holden. I shouldn't have told Holden that there were a few greasers bothering us and that I needed him to pick me up. Maybe if I hadn't told him, nothing would have happened.

But, I did. And as I saw him, Bob, Randy, and David Friedman pull up in Bob's fancy blue Mustang I didn't know what trouble I had started.


	2. Chapter 2

I would have never gotten in a car with Bob Sheldon if I knew that in less than 48 hours I would be down at the police station being questioned about what I heard and saw.

I was curled up in the backseat, half asleep, my head resting on Holden's chest. David, Bob and Randy were in the front seat of Bob's fancy blue Mustang. I had figured Bob was just going to swing by my house, drop me off and Holden and the rest of their buddies would head down to whatever beer blast or house party they were all planning to go to in the first place. I didn't actually realize we were no where near the West side of town until the car suddenly stopped and Bob and Randy started whispering to each other, I looked up at Holden, confused.

"That's them, look, it's that one black-headed kid. I saw him a few blocks ago near Marcia." Randy insisted, slurring a bit. I admit, I'm not like Cherry. I didn't flip out if my boyfriend gets a little drunk or go around flirting with hoods like Dallas Winston, but I don't like fights either. I don't like hearing Holden's bragging about how he jumped a bunch of greasers no matter how much I don't like them. I especially don't like seeing it go down right in front of me. I immediately sat up, peeling Holden's arm off of my shoulders.

"I thought you were taking me home." I hissed to him, running a hand through my shoulder-length brunette hair. I never realized why Cherry kept her trademark red hair so long, when we were teenagers, short hair was the biggest thing since poodle skirts. I liked mine in short layers, Marcia teased hers and sometimes even curled it, and I knew a few girls that kept theirs in a fashionable bob like my mother did when she was sixteen. Most greasy girls either had long, greasy hair that went down to their hips or they would cut it short, almost like a boy would. "Holden, why are here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"This'll only take a second, baby. Calm down." He said, I could smell his dad's bourbon on his breath and pushed him away as he tried to wrap his arm around me again. He looked surprised in his drunken state, which only made me madder.

"I mean it, take me home. Now." I snapped, glaring up at him. Bob turned around and shot a look at me.

"Shut up, Julie. This isn't any of your business." Bob ordered. I rolled my eyes; of course it was my business. I was the one stuck in the car with them. I was an accomplice already and nothing had even gone down yet. I sat up straighter and scooted over from Holden, my arms crossed and my lips pursed tight. Marcia and Cherry could handle these greasers on their own, Bob and Randy didn't need to go off and attack them.

The two of them stepped out of the car, leaving me with Holden and David. At least David wasn't drunk, I knew him well enough to know that his old man would really give it to him if he ever even stepped inside a bar. What his old man didn't know was that he hung out with Bob and Randy who were the perfect examples of future high-school has beens living on welfare and drinking up all their money in about ten years.

A smash from outside startled me and I looked up suddenly. Some greaser and Randy were caught in a shouting match and I looked down. I just wanted to go to sleep at this point.

It was a few minutes later when Bob and Randy finally convinced Cherry and Marcia to come with them. They climbed into the car next to me and I avoided looking at them, knowing that on Monday Cherry would really give it to me for telling Bob about Dallas Winston and that Curtis kid. It was nearly eleven when I finally got home. Paul was sitting at the kitchen table an envelope in his hands. I noticed it had been opened and I wondered if it was my grades or something. I immediately pushed the envelope from my mind as I shut the door as quietly as possible behind me. I suppose there was no point, dad was probably still awake, waiting up for me so he could yell at me about whatever I had done this time.

"Boy, Jules. You sure are asking for it." Paul whistled as I stepped inside, closing the door as quietly as possible behind me. I looked up at him, a confused look on my face.

"What the hell are you talking about? I hissed, raising an eyebrow. I never got an answer, because as soon as I spoke, dad came downstairs, dark circles under his eyes. Paul immediately strode out of the room, taking the mysterious envelope with him.

"Do you even know what time it is?" He began the familiar curfew lecture with the same question he had been using since I was twelve years old and I accidentally came home at 9:30 and not 9:00.

"Past curfew." I said, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. I set my bag down on the couch and turned to him, crossing my arms over my chest. At least I wasn't wearing anything revealing, that was one lecture I could live without tonight. When I was fifteen, I tried sneaking into the house after a beer blast and unfortunately dad had figured out I had borrowed Cherry's red party dress that barely went down to my knees. Ever since, the only dresses I was allowed to wear out of the house had to go at least past my knees. I don't wear a lot of dresses, and I should be thankful that dad doesn't know about the three blue miniskirts Marcia bought me for my birthday last year.

"You're damn right it is; I said I wanted you home at ten, where the hell were you anyway?" He barked sternly, running a hand through his hair.

I'm not an idiot, I didn't tell my father I was on the East side of town. Let's be honest here, I don't have a death wish. I muttered a half-assed lie about hanging out with Cherry at the mall and retreated upstairs. For probably the first time in a month, I was going to bed on a Friday night before midnight. I know it's stupid, but I don't like sleeping all that much. I'm not a wild girl either, I don't stay up and party until the break of dawn, and thank god neither do my friends. Well, I suppose Winnie Lee is an exception but she hasn't slowed down since the ninth grade and I don't think she ever will. Marcia jokes about how she's going to end up dead in an alleyway after OD'ing but I don't think so. I don't like gossip about other girls, makes me feel pretty rotten. It might be true one day, who knows? Shooting up isn't that big a problem in Tulsa though, in big cities it is though. The worst drug problem we have around here is pot and Jason Reed got sent to military school last year for owning, like, half a pint or something.

I'm pretty well-educated on that kind of stuff. Dad works as a prison guard downtown and he and Paul are always talking about who's doing what and who's in jail again and who's on death row. I'm pretty lucky dad doesn't work at the reformatory or handle teenagers who get tossed in jail for joyriding or whatever, he's with people over eighteen, which is a tad bit dangerous then some no-count hood robbing a liquor store.

I finally got to sleep around two in the morning, my mind still on Cherry and Marcia. I was wondering what they would do when I got to school on Monday. I guess I'm not that scared of Marcia, but Cherry can kind of worry me a little. Like I said, she's a bit narcissistic. What else would you expect from the leader of the lip gloss Gestapo though? Head cheerleader and only a junior, Cherry Valance is everything underclassmen want to be and that girl that every guy wants. I can't even remember how she ended up with Bob, I knew it had something to do with a party and the next thing you know Cherry has a hickey on her neck and a new boyfriend.

If I'm being honest, I don't like my friends. I'm content hanging out with girls like Martha Frederickson and Donna Matthews. Girls who are fine with being normal, who don't need constant excitement to keep them alive, or who feel like they need to rebel in every single way. I can't even remember why I even wanted to be friends with Marcia and Cherry in the first place, but I go along with every single thing those two say like a dog. I don't speak up, I don't have an opinion in our conversations, I don't even know how to think for myself anymore. I have a year and a half left. A year and a half before I can blow this town and go off to college, far away from beer blasts and greasers and socs and Corvettes and Blue Mustangs.

I don't remember what I dreamed that night, but when I woke up that morning, two things happened that changed my life forever.

Bob Sheldon was dead and Paul had a gun to his head.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the fuck are you doing?"

My light voice was hoarse from lack of speech as I stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring intently at Paul. His eyes were closed and his breath was shaky, I could see his hands trembling and his knuckles were almost white from grasping the gun so tightly. My heart was going a hundred miles a minute and I couldn't move, it was as if my feet were planted to the kitchen floor. Paul opened his eyes abruptly but refused to meet my gaze. Even from a distance I could see the moisture in his eyes.

"D-Don't come any closer, I swear to god I'll shoot myself." He was on the verge of tears and the vulnerability in his voice showed it. I still couldn't believe even though I stood there right in front of him. His blonde hair was a tousled mess and his face was red from trying not to cry. I wanted to run in there but it was almost like I couldn't breathe, let alone move. I could feel my pounding heart in my chest and I almost laughed, the irony of it all was unbelievable. That came out wrong, I didn't actually find the situation funny, in fact I felt as if I could drop dead any minute myself. "I can't kill no one, I can't, I'll kill myself first." His words were making little sense but I didn't care to listen to his incoherent rambling, I focused on his shaking hands, still clutching the gun.

I finally found it in myself to move my stiff legs and run into the kitchen. I was actually afraid that he would kill himself, right there and then, but as I wrestled with him for a good five minutes for the gun, I noticed the safety was on and I found myself foolishly wondering what he was trying to do. Fake his own death? It was a moment before I finally got hold of the gun and forced it from his surprisingly loose grip.

As soon as I got the gun away from him, he fell to the floor, his knees buckling underneath his weight. He sobbed for what seemed like an hour but I knew it could have only been a few minutes. I was at his side, trying my best to comfort him as he shook, crying into his hands. It was hard seeing my tough older brother like this, breaking down and a sobbing mess and I had no idea what was going on.

It was a while before he finally spoke again, wiping a few stray tears from his face.

"Julie, I, got-um, here," He stammered on his words, trying hard to spit out what was on his mind. He sat up, reaching for something in his jeans pocket. A white envelope that had been folded and crumpled numerous times. I gasped.

"When?" My voice was barely a whisper, and suddenly my eyes were filled with tears too. It had been two weeks since my brother had turned eighteen. Two fucking weeks. I could feel bile rising up in my throat and I had the overwhelming feeling of nausea take over my body.

"Don't you start crying now too" He warned, trying his hardest to turn the whole situation into a joke. I didn't want to hear it though, none of it was a joke. None of it was fair. "I got it this morning, 'fore dad went to work." He elaborated and I tried to imagine what he felt when he opened that door and saw those soldiers standing there, holding his draft notice.

It wasn't rare nowadays, eighteen year old kids getting drafted. Kids, for Christ sakes. I'd never see my brother as anything else but the boy who played football, who wouldn't hurt a fly, who cried for hours once because he had gotten beaten up from trying to stop his buddies from jumping some greaser. I never knew why my brother was so set on being friends with boys like Darrel Curtis. He had said because Darrel was his buddy, a good guy, no matter what class he was in. Why didn't I feel the same way? It astonished me that my brother could care so much for anybody, he was always the person to make everybody around him happy. I don't know why I came to this realization on the day I figured out he was getting drafted, maybe grief, maybe something else. I figured out later that evening when he told dad and mom that he would be leaving in a week. One week was all they were giving us. I wanted to die.

"How long d'ya think you're gonna be gone?" I asked him, my voice still small and insecure like a child. I wanted to punch myself for being so weak, only thinking about myself. I don't know why, but I felt like most of this was my fault. Hell, I felt like it was all my fault.

"Couple of months, nothing more hopefully." He shrugged, still trying to stifle delayed tears. "I'm gonna tell dad tonight at dinner, don't you dare go telling him on your own Julia." I rolled my eyes at the use of my full name which I had grown to hate while going through puberty, when everybody called me Julio because they thought I looked like a boy.

We spent the rest of the morning that way until Paul finally stood, claiming he had to get ready for work. He had a part-time job at a car wash place with his pal, Will. I wondered if Will was gonna get drafted too, sooner or later it was bound to happen. My brother wasn't the only one who deserved to go to war.

I had always believed in God before that day, I had always believed that whoever was up there was certainly watching over us. I had always had faith. But when I saw my brother pull that envelope from his pocket, it was like all hope vanished. I didn't think I could believe in a God that shipped innocent kids off to war to be slaughtered like pigs. I just couldn't. Stopped going to church after that too. My mom still went, my dad less than usual, guess he was pretty grief-stricken too. After Paul left, he drank for weeks, stopped going to work, I was real worried about him. I remember Paul running home Friday night at nearly midnight, crying and bloody. He was in a gang fight, a rumble. I asked him why, why he left on the last night I had with him. He said I'd understand when I was his age, but I never did.

He was gone before I woke up.

XxXxXxX

It was that same morning that I found out about Paul that June Carter came to the door, out of breath, panting like a little dog in the Tulsa heat.

"Did'ya hear yet?" She asked in that excited tone of hers. I admired June, she didn't understand about the social classes like anyone else did. Basically ignorant to everything going on around her, that little fourteen-year-old girl acted as if everything was fine between the greasers and the socs. Guess in a way, I didn't care much about the greasers anyways. I was just as ignorant. I had no idea what she was going off about, so I shook my head, hoping she didn't notice that I had been crying.

"Somebody stabbed Bob Sheldon to death last night in FairCrest Park on the East side. Cops say it's a couple of kids who went missing last night." That was the problem with June, didn't care to mention that those kids were greasers. I later figured out they were the exact same greasers Cherry had invited to sit with us last night at the Double. If only she'd known that one of them would off her boyfriend.

Sorry—that was a dumb thing to say.

I pulled June inside after that, making her tell me the whole story. From what I heard, Bob was drunk. Real drunk, so were Randy and David Friedman. They tried to drown that one boy, Ponykid or something, in the fountain. His buddy stabbed Bob, making him let go of Pony and not kill him. Of course right after Bob croaked, Randy and David bailed. Some friends.

I was surprisingly numb to the news. I cared about Bob, he was a pretty good friend, not a very good boyfriend to Cherry, and he got a drunk a lot. If I'm being honest, I felt bad for the guy. His parents didn't give two shits whether he was getting drunk or getting a girl pregnant and all he wanted were some boundaries. Spoiled was the word my father had used many times. To sum it up, I didn't care that much. Nobody really deserves to die, but I believe Bob had really been asking for it, even if they were just greasers and hoods. I dunno, maybe I really _did _care but was too upset about Paul to show it. June was almost sullen looking even though she didn't really know Bob all that well. I guess that's how everyone looks when somebody dies, that familiar sense of pity in their eyes, their forced frown or tears even if the barely knew the guy. Suddenly, I felt sick and I couldn't differentiate whether it was Paul or Bob, but I nearly passed out right there on the sofa. I stood up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, not caring that June was still staring at me.

"You alright, Julie?" she asked, approaching me gently as if I were a forest animal she was trying not to scare off. I shrugged, downing half the glass of water.

"Maybe you oughta go home." I suggested and she nodded as I ushered her to the door, nearly slamming it behind me. I took my seat back on the couch and sighed.

Sometimes, life sucked.

XxXxXxX

The hallways on Monday morning were a mess.

I could literally feel people staring at the back of my head as I made my way to my locker, hugging my History textbook to my chest. I could overhear whispers of gossip about both Bob and Johnny Cade and of course the tearful condolences to a hollow-looking Cherry. She stood by our lockers, nodding silently each time somebody passed her and muttered a half-assed 'Sorry' or 'Are you okay?' Hell, I was expecting somebody to drop off a muffin basket before first period.

I felt bad for her, I knew she really did like Bob. A lot. She said he had something special about him, a spark or something. That's how she always put it anyways. It wasn't hard to believe that Bob and Cherry were the two most popular socs in school. Cherry, a long-haired cheerleader, Bob, center-fielder of the baseball team. They were like two perfect snowflakes, a cut above the rest.

My head was hurting like crazy by the time I got the third period English, the only class—other than lunch—that Cherry, Marcia, and I had together. Cherry looked a mess and I wondered why she hadn't just bailed at this point. Her mascara was running, her eyes and nose were as red as her hair, and she was slouched over in her chair so that her chin basically touched her chest. I was pretty sure she fell asleep sometime during the lesson and Marcia had to shake her awake before Mrs. Fogel saw her passed out in the back of the class.

Personally, I think that while dealing with dead boyfriends or brothers or whatevers, I think a girl should be left alone. Cherry obviously felt (and maybe looked) like a hurricane had hit and she was walking right through the wind and the rain and everything. After school, Marcia and I were hurrying to get to our lockers before the crowd of everybody leaving their seventh period classes filled up the already cramped hallways, we hadn't seen Cherry since lunch and I was wondering if she had actually ditched. Wouldn't surprise me.

"We really oughta do something to help her, y'know?" Marcia spoke, startling me from the silence of my own mind. I looked at her, a bit confused. "Cherry. We should cheer her up or something." She offered again. I shook my head almost immediately.

"No, Marcia, she needs to be alone right now." I insisted, shutting my locker door and beginning to walk off. Marcia soon caught up to me as I climbed into my car and she slid into the passenger seat.

"Aw c'mon, she's our friend." She pleaded, her attempts weren't working on me though. I knew it was selfish, but I was really the one who wanted to be left alone. I had no idea what Cherry wanted, or even where she was.

"Yeah, and her boyfriend just died too. Give her some space!" I shouted, regretting it immediately afterwards. Marcia looked stunned as if I had slapped her across her face. She sat there for a moment before muttering something under her breath and opening the car door, I called after her as she walked off but I didn't actually feel like going after her.

I slumped into my car seat and closed my eyes tightly, dropping my hands from the steering wheel. I just sat there, not moving, not caring about anything. I didn't want to think. It wasn't until I heard my car door open once again and I looked up, expecting to see Marcia coming back to apologize or a sobbing Cherry. I literally almost jumped when I saw a greaser looking boy sitting next to me, grinning like an idiot.

"Nice car, mind giving me a ride?"


End file.
